Don't Know How to Live Without Your Love
by alex-of-macedonia
Summary: Beca thinks this last fight with Chloe was the last straw, and she sees no hope for her future. TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE ATTEMPT, AND GRAPHIC DETAILS OF SAID ATTEMPT.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: The story that Beca remembers is actually a spoiler from _Magic's Pawn_ by Mercedes Lackey. If you get a chance to read anything by her, she writes fantasy novels -usually in trilogies- that take place within a country called Valdemar, and that's a great starting point (and I'm sorry for the spoiler).**

**Also disclaimer: I own nothing from Pitch Perfect.**

* * *

"Nine one one, what's your emergency?"

"Yes, hi, I need to report a suicide." Her voice was thick with emotion.

The operator's tone immediately turned sympathetic. "Do you know whose?"

Her voice faltered at first, just allowing a small squeak. She cleared her throat, attempting to regain composure, and tried again. "The suicide is mine."

She could hear the operator attempt to get her to keep talking, asking for her location and if she'd already attempted anything, but she let her hand fall back to her lap. Her finger touched the 'end call' button on the face of the phone, and she set it aside.

Grabbing the dagger from the bathroom counter, she lowered herself to the floor, tucking both legs underneath herself. She positioned the hilt between her thighs, pointy side up. Glancing toward the door to make sure it was locked, she placed her wrists to either razor sharp side of the dagger. She'd read about this somewhere, where a character tried killing himself after his lover died. If his friends and a magical horse hadn't been right there to save him, he would have succeeded. She hoped no one would be there to check on her too quickly. Surely hanging up on the call meant that it would be a few minutes before the police figured out where she'd called from. Probably a few minutes past that to get to her. She hoped it would be too late by that point.

The steel was cold against her bare wrists. It felt like dunking her head in ice water, making everything feel so clear in her mind. This was the right choice. She'd been a burden to too many for too long. Especially her girlfriend. Chloe wouldn't understand at first, but… She'd move on. That's how she is. This is how it had to be.

She thought back to their last fight. It had been the same fight for the umpteenth time, but this time seemed different. She knew it had been the last straw; she knew things were over between them for sure. There'd be no turning back from this, and with no money, no job, and no future with Chloe… What else really was there?

She hadn't written a note explaining why. She didn't feel the need to explain anything. It should all be obvious, when anyone thought about it. She had put sticky notes on her music equipment and other assorted possessions, designating who it should go to. Or how much it's worth, in case their new owners couldn't keep them.

She decided she had to say something to Chloe. Taking in a deep breath, she grabbed the phone from the countertop above her.

_I'm sorry, Chloe. I tried. For you, for us. But I can't be a burden on you any more. I'm so sorry. I love you. Always remember that. xx, Beca_

Sending that made her feel slightly less anxious. At least that was resolved, in its way.

Refocusing on the dagger between her legs, the brunette took another deep breath and pressed her wrists against each edge.

* * *

Twenty-one hundred miles away, Chloe sat at her kitchen table with a mug of coffee clutched in one hand, and her cell phone in the other.

"She sounded so down, Bree. I felt like I was talking to a brick wall. Yes, I know we keep having that argument, but this time was different. She seemed so… Off. When she hung up, I—I don't know. She seemed like she was even further away than just in another state."

"Have you tried calling her back, to see if you can at least make sure your relationship is okay?" The blonde's voice on the other end was strained, and Chloe knew it wasn't just because she'd woken her best friend up at two in the morning. Aubrey had to be as tired of listening to Chloe's troubles with Beca as she was in dealing with it firsthand.

She took a sip of her coffee, but she'd let it sit for too long and it had gone lukewarm. Her nose scrunched at the unexpected nasty flavor. She pushed the mug away and rested her forehead in her upturned palm.

Memories of the fight just hours before came flooding back.

_"So you think I suck as a musician. I'm never going to make it as a deejay, so I should just come back to Atlanta. Is that what you're telling me?" Beca's voice had risen to shrill levels, and Chloe almost had to hold her phone away from her ear._

_"That's not what I'm saying at all, Beca, and you know it. You're a great deejay-"_

_"Who hasn't been picked up by a single label or played a single gig since I got here four months ago."_

_"-who maybe just needs to find other avenues of income until you're discovered. Have you taken any kind of day jobs since you got there? Waiting tables, or babysitting, or anything?"_

_"Chloe, I can't work a regular job if it's going to cut into my creative time. We've gone over this! I need to do my mixes and hit the pavement all day to get them out there. Eventually someone is going to play one of my songs on the radio. Or one of the clubs will call me back and I—-"_

_Chloe cut her girlfriend off. "Baby, you just said it's been four months. How many of those places have given you the time of day even if you've gone back a second or a third time?" Silence crackled on the other end. "Exactly. I'm sorry, but it's the hard truth, Bec."_

_"I'm sure I'll get discovered soon, though! I can _feel_ it, Chloe! I just need you to send me enough money for one more month. Please."_

_Chloe rolled her eyes, but remained firm in her resolve. "Honey, do you not realize how much I make as a teacher? I'm not even out of my internship, where all I get is a stipend. Most of that goes to you. Do you realize that? I moved back in with my parents so I can help you live your dream, Beca."_

_She heard muffled sobs on the other end. Usually this fight ended with Beca promising to look harder for a job, and Chloe apologizing for being so harsh. It had never taken this turn before. The truth had to be said, though, regardless of whether it hurt her girlfriend's feelings._

_"Say something, Bec."_

_She heard shuddered breathing, and then, "What am I supposed to say to that? I'm sorry I'm destroying our lives? I'm sorry I've been stealing all your money? I'm sorry I'm a good-for-nothing and I'll come straight home on a plane tomorrow with a ticket I can't even pay for without asking you for the cash?"_

_Chloe sighed. This was going nowhere productive. "Look. It's getting late, I've been awake since five, and you should try working on your mixes. Let's just take a step back from this, and revisit the conversation tomorrow. We'll both have a clearer state of mind, and we can figure out where to go from there."_

_Sullenly, Beca agreed. At least she wasn't yelling anymore. Chloe took that as a slightly good sign and a step in the right direction._

_They said their goodnights, and Chloe attempted to fall asleep._

_A black lump of uneasiness sat in her gut for over an hour. She tossed and turned until finally she found herself in the kitchen brewing coffee and calling Aubrey._

"-sure she'll come to her senses and" *beep* "you just want what's best for both of you."

A beeping noise cut into what Aubrey was saying.

"Hey, Bree, can you hang on a sec? I just heard a text come in. I think I should check it."

"Okay. I'll be right here if you need me."

She pulled the phone away from her ear and accessed the menu, bringing up the new messages. She saw one from Beca and opened it.

Her eyes quickly scanned the words, then read them again. And again. That couldn't be right.

"Aubrey…? I think I need to let you go. Something's wrong and I need to call LAPD now." Without waiting for an affirmation, she hung up and immediately pulled up her web browser to search for the Los Angeles police number.

After one ring, the line picked up. "Los Angeles Police Department, how may I direct your call?"

"I'm calling from Atlanta, but I think my girlfriend is going to try to hurt herself and I need you to send someone there immediately." She gave the woman Beca's address, one she knew by heart from having written it on so many check-filled envelopes in the past four months.

"Don't worry, ma'am, we will have someone out there as soon as we can. Help is on its way. Would you like to stay on the line for information?"

"Yes, I'll stay." _Oh god, what if we're already too late?_ she thought in horror. The operator tried to say soothing words to her to keep her calm, but Chloe's mind ran wild, seeing all the possible ways this evening could and already had gone wrong.

* * *

Through half-focused eyes, Beca could see the damage she'd caused. She found herself lying on her side, unable to hold herself upright any longer. Her injured wrists were down by her waist, but she could see them. She could see the blood pooling around her body.

Closing her eyes, she willed herself to slip into nothingness. Maybe she wouldn't wake up again.

Minutes passed, and she could feel herself slipping further and further away. The pain in her arms had been replaced with a cold, numb feeling. The numbness was inching its way up and out. She couldn't feel her toes anymore.

A loud noise followed by loud voices tried to grab her attention, but it seemed miles away now. Far, far away, and she couldn't care less any longer.

Her tenuous ties to consciousness registered the bathroom door being kicked open, and then voices asking if she was awake, if she could hear them. She didn't care enough to try responding. She was far away, floating free, and nothing could bother her again.

* * *

"Ma'am, I have confirmation that they found your girlfriend. She's in critical condition, en route to the nearest hospital."

Chloe started sobbing, knowing she shouldn't feel relieved because Beca wasn't out of the woods yet, but grateful there was a chance she could be alright.

"Please, what's the address for the hospital? And the phone number." She jotted the information down and thanked the police operator for her help. Her next phone call was to the Atlanta airport, booking a seat on the first flight to LAX.

Chloe quickly emailed her boss, explaining the circumstances on why she wouldn't be at school the next day, left a note next to the coffee maker to let her parents know she'd call them from LA to explain, and texted Aubrey the same.

The entire cab ride to the airport, and then the entire flight, Chloe kept silently praying. For Beca to live, for Beca to not regret living, for Beca to not hate her for trying to save her…. The mantra kept going around and around inside her head for hours until she found herself walking down a long, white hallway and stopping in front of the emergency room's information desk.

"Do you have any word on a patient named Beca Mitchell? I would be listed as her emergency contact, Chloe Beale."


	2. Chapter 2

After getting confirmation that Beca was at least alive when they found her, Chloe had headed straight to the airport. Unfortunately, the first flight to LA wasn't scheduled until after eight A.M., but Chloe had known she couldn't sit around at home to wait for the departure time. Instead, she endured five hours seated at a sticky bar opposite her terminal. She drank straight whiskey with beer chasers, mulling over whether it was her fault in the end, or if something else had set her girlfriend on her self-destructive path. How would she react when she arrived in LA; would she cry if Beca hadn't survived? Would she feel relief that she didn't have to support her anymore? Would she cry with joy if Beca did make it? Would she storm into the recovery room and scream at her?

Every scenario flashed through her mind, from being a loving partner to being a terrifying force of fury to -essentially- being a weeping mess of a widow. Through it all, though, Chloe had kept praying for Beca to make it. She had made every deal with God she could think of to please keep her sweet Beca alive.

By the time her flight was called to board, Chloe had finished seven sets of her drink order. The bartender, only seeing that a pretty redhead was at his bar, sobbing into her drink, made sure to keep supplying her with free rounds of steak fries, attempting to get her stomach to soak up all the alcohol. At some point, the sad girl had called a friend and was filling her in on what had happened up to then, so he caught bits and pieces. In the end, he slipped his own cash into the register and told the young woman to keep her money and that he hoped everything worked out well. With a sad, intoxicated half-smile, she thanked him and left to board her plane.

For a while, she had tried nursing a single Bloody Mary on the flight, but eventually opted for water in an attempt to sober up before they landed. Five hours later, she was getting into a taxi for the hospital. Her mind was no longer addled by booze, but was still cluttered with worry.  
Paying the cab driver and thanking him for the ride, Chloe exited the vehicle and walked toward the automatic doors leading into the emergency room. She paused just before, her nerves getting the best of her. What ifs filled her mind at an alarming volume, only stopping when she pinched her arm. _You need answers, Beale, no matter what they are._

Once inside, she quickly found the information desk. She had known better than to try calling ahead, due to HIPAA and patient confidentiality laws. Her older brother worked in Birmingham as a nurse practitioner, and she had helped him with his tests by quizzing him the whole time he was an undergrad, so she knew some of the basics for medical laws and such. Aubrey had offered to call for updates while she was on the plane, but Chloe had told her she would have to wait til she was there in person.

"Do you have any information on a patient named Beca Mitchell? I would be listed as her emergency contact, Chloe Beale." Chloe produced her identification card before being asked and handed it to one receptionist.

"If you will wait just one moment, I will call the doctor on duty and ask her if she has any patients by that name." The woman waved to a nearby seat, which Chloe took, and then she picked up the phone.

After a couple minutes -which to Chloe felt like an eternity- she was beckoned back to the desk.  
"I can only confirm that a Beca Mitchell is here, and that they found your name on a card in her wallet when she was brought in, listing you as an emergency contact, as you said. The doctor will be out shortly to give you more information."

Chloe thanked her for her help, slipped her ID card back in her purse, and resumed her seat.  
Twenty minutes later, she found a middle-aged woman with long, black hair pulled into a tight ponytail and sea-green scrubs at her side. The doctor sat in the seat beside her and introduced herself as Joanna Martin.

"I had just come in for my shift when your friend was brought in. I can say now that she is in stable condition," at this, Chloe let out a sigh of relief, "and that she has been transferred to the ICU until her psych evaluation can happen. She tried to commit suicide, as I'm sure you're aware." Chloe nodded. "She is not in critical condition at this time, but there's better security up there while she's on a psych hold."

"Do you... Do you know how long she'll be there?"

Dr. Martin's eyes were kind as she regarded the young woman next to her. The poor girl had obviously had a long morning, and was obviously very close to the girl upstairs. "We have to hold her for at least seventy-two hours, due to the nature of her admittance here." She glanced at the watch on her left wrist. "It is eleven-forty-five on a Sunday morning, and normally the psychiatrist doesn't come in on the weekends. She may not be seen until tomorrow morning at the earliest. We can arrange, however, for her to be admitted to the psych ward until then, and/or have a social worker come out to talk to her, see what her options are once she is able to leave here."

All of this information weighed heavily on Chloe's mind. She leaned over her knees, her head held in her hands.

"I'm Beca's girlfriend, as well as financially supporting her. Do I have any say in those options?" she asked quietly.

Dr. Martin laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I can ask Beca if she wishes you to be present when she meets with any social workers and medical staff, but everything is ultimately her decision, unless the psychiatrist deems her unfit to make them. Then the decisions would fall to her next of kin, which unfortunately does not include unmarried significant others or same-sex partners."

Chloe audibly sighed, sat back in the chair and slapped her hands against her thighs. "Well, I guess I will take what I can get, and I'll let her father know what's going on, in case he needs to fly in."

As the doctor rose from her seat, she offered for Chloe to follow her toward the elevators.

Silently they traveled to the second floor, and Dr. Martin escorted her inside the ICU. After a short chat with the nurse on duty, she patted Chloe on the arm once again, and left to go back downstairs.

The nurse, Peggy, showed her where she could sit while she waited for Beca to wake up.

* * *

The clock on the wall read eleven-fifteen P.M. Beca had been informed of Chloe's presence when she woke up ten hours ago, and still had not asked for her. The nurses apologetically explained that it might be that Beca was still so heavily medicated that she didn't understand what they'd said.

Chloe figured Beca just didn't want to see her, and that somehow hurt the worst.

Her eyes ached, both from exhaustion and from the hours-long crying she'd finally just finished half an hour ago. She felt like if she ever cried again, it would be too soon.

The waiting room for the Intensive Care Unit was small, and the nurses had been kind enough to grant her pillows and a blanket. Normally visitors weren't allowed past a certain hour, but the staff had taken pity on her, given the circumstances: she'd flown in, come straight to the hospital, and hadn't arranged for a hotel room in town. No one thought to ask her to go stay in her girlfriend's empty apartment, not that Chloe would go within a mile of it. Luckily one set of chairs was linked together, almost like a couch, so she had a makeshift bed.

She had seen a portly woman with a grim expression head into Beca's room around three that afternoon. Other than the nurses who made their rounds every couple of hours, she was the only person to visit Beca. Chloe assumed it was the social worker, and wished she knew what was going on.

She pressed a button on the side of her cell phone to light it up. No new messages or calls. Beca's father would be arriving in the morning, just in case he was needed for legal purposes. He had broken down in tears when Chloe called him earlier that afternoon. He'd had no idea his daughter was suffering from depression or anything of the sort. To her credit, neither did Chloe. Not really, anyway. She just wished, for the thousandth time that day, that Beca had clued her in on how she was feeling. Maybe she wouldn't have been so harsh. Maybe she would have pushed her to come home sooner. Maybe Chloe should have tried transferring to a school in LA. Maybe, maybe, maybe...

The Beales expressed their condolences and offered their support in whatever way she needed. Her father said he would go down to the bank first thing in the morning to transfer money to her account, telling her to get a hotel room nearby. Her mother said she would keep Beca in her prayers, and would ask the ladies in her Bible study group to do the same.

After filling Aubrey in, Chloe asked her to keep everything a secret. The last thing any of them needed right then would be for Beca to be bombarded with phone calls and questions from their old college friends. Chloe knew they'd mean well, but the girls could be overwhelming in showing their love for their favorite former captain. Aubrey agreed that if anyone asked, Chloe had surprised Beca with a little getaway vacation for some made up anniversary.

She moved her head to look over at the coffee table, normally centered in the waiting area and strewn with magazines, but now pulled close by the seats Chloe was occupying and covered in food, drink bottles, and a book.

When the woman who was probably the social worker had gone into Beca's room, and knowing that would occupy Beca for at least half an hour, she'd finally convinced herself to visit the cafeteria. She had a superstitious feeling that Beca might finally ask for her and she'd be out getting food or in the bathroom, and that by the time she'd come back, Beca would have changed her mind. So with her one trip to the cafeteria, she had stocked up on as many ready-to-eat snacks as possible, like trail mix and packets of crackers, a few bottles of water and juice, and a turkey sandwich on rye. Juggling her bags of food, she passed the gift shop on her way back up to ICU. She hadn't brought anything with her for boredom; she hadn't thought about packing anything except a change of shirt and underwear, and frankly she was surprised she'd thought that far ahead. So she also grabbed a book of puzzles and a novel.

As the day wore on, however, she hadn't been able to concentrate on a simple word find, much less try to read about characters being in love. She'd only managed to eat the sandwich and some water. Nothing else appealed to her. Nothing mattered except her aching desire to know if her girlfriend was going to come out of this okay.

Since it was now nearing midnight, Chloe figured she should try to sleep, but her stomach was finally growling, and her mind would not shut up. She selected a packet of cheese-flavored crackers and a bottle of grape juice.

She must have been hungrier than she thought, as the crackers were gone before she realized she'd devoured them. With one last gulp of juice, she fluffed a pillow against one end of her row of chairs and laid herself down, pulling a blanket over her body.

It felt like only two seconds had passed since she'd shut her eyes when Chloe felt herself being roused from sleep by a nurse. Blearily, she tried focusing her eyes on the older woman crouching beside her.

Chloe quickly sat up. "Hmm? What's wrong? Is Beca okay?" She rubbed knuckles against her eyes to wake up faster.

The nurse smiled kindly, her wrinkled hand patting the redhead on the shoulder. "I'm sorry to wake you, especially at four in the morning, but she started asking for you."

Jumping to her feet, Chloe rushed past the nurse and over to Beca's room.

* * *

Beca had tried sleeping after the social worker left, since she didn't have any kind of entertainment besides control of the television on the opposite wall. Nothing interesting was ever on on a Sunday afternoon or night though, so she'd asked for something to help relieve the pain in her arms, and dozed off.

Around one A.M., the pain meds wearing off dragged Beca back to consciousness as her wrists began throbbing again. When the nurse came in to give her fresh medication, she reminded Beca of the young woman sitting out in the waiting room. Margaret, the nurse, said Chloe had fallen asleep not too long ago, but she could wake her up.

"No, let her get some sleep. I owe her that much," Beca sighed. She wasn't ready to face her girlfriend yet. What if Chloe took one look at her, saw the damage she'd caused, and decided it wasn't worth it anymore? That's basically what she had herself decided, wasn't it, when she tried to kill herself? Maybe Chloe had traveled here to tell her she considered the suicide attempt a break up, and just wanted to do it in person.

She sat motionless in the bed for a couple hours, staring blankly at the muted television. Finally, she had had enough and pressed the call button to summon the nurse again.

"Your wrists again?"

"No, um... Can you see if Chloe wants to see me? I guess I'm ready to face her."

When the door opened again, Beca stared at a fixed point on the wall to the right of the bed. She couldn't bring herself to look Chloe in the face. She knew that if she looked into those blue eyes, she would see the pain she'd caused.

"Beca." It was barely more than a whisper, but she could hear every emotion laced within the two syllables.

"Chloe, I... I don't really know what to say."

"Are you sorry?"

The brunette whipped her head to look her girlfriend in the eyes. "Excuse me?"

"Are you sorry you tried to kill yourself? Are you sorry you lived? Do you regret any of this? Did you think about how I'd feel if you'd succeeded?"

Beca's jaw dropped. "You're seriously asking me these things right now?"

Chloe held up one hand. "That's bullshit, Beca, and you know it. Don't try to play the victim here. You almost-" Her voice broke on the words. "You could have died. That argument was going nowhere, so I wanted to wait to talk to you until this morning, like two rational people, to figure out what to do about you staying here in LA and living your dream, or coming back to Atlanta and trying to live your dream from there. I was going to help you figure out what to do. We could have worked through this like the partners we're supposed to be..." Chloe crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked toward the ceiling, and Beca thought she saw tears shining in her eyes before Chloe closed them and covered them with one hand. "Why did you try to leave me behind?"

The only sound in the room for several minutes was Chloe quietly sobbing. Beca stared at her hands, unsure what to do or say, lost for the correct reactions.

Finally she said, "So, is this it then?" Her voice was flat, carefully devoid of emotions.  
Chloe wiped at her tear-streaked cheeks with both hands, wiping them off on her shirt. "Not if you don't want it to be." There was a certain edge to her words, as if she was afraid to hear Beca's answer.

The brunette was back to staring at her hands. "All I know is that I love you. And..." The wave of emotions from tbe last day crashed down on her. Sadness, anxiety, anger. Her entire body shook with the force of her crying, and Beca was barely able to say the words she so needed to say. "I'm sorry. I'm so stupid, and I'm so sorry!" she wailed.

The redhead rushed over to the bed, sitting on the bed next to Beca's legs, and pulled her into a crushing hug. "I know, baby. Shh. I know. It's okay. I'm here for you. It's gonna be okay, and we're going to get through this together."

They sat there, holding each other and rocking back and forth until they were both exhausted and no longer crying. Beca lay down in the bed, Chloe settling her body alongside hers on top of the blankets.


End file.
